The Ballerina-Ninja Strikes Again

I love it when I burn a lot of calories at school.
Makes me feel like I'm in the right profession.
I love to move. So do most young people.
So when the art teacher proposed her students
take pictures of my theatre students
dressed in wacky costumes
dancing around and acting crazy
I knew it would be one of those days
where I get to sweat in class.

The day before the shoot
I'd let them know the art students were coming
we talked about the difference between
staged movement and natural movement
and experimented creating movement ensembles
such as giant "machines" in which one student
begins some mechanically-inspired
motion and accompanying noise
then every one else in turns must add on to this contraption
in a way that connects
Rube Goldberg-style
to the whole

One such configuration was so successful
I dropped a mini-lesson on
guerilla theatre and proposed
that we go recreate the machine
in the hallway while everyone switched classes
blocking the lockers
for some serious attention

Of course they jumped at the chance
I composed 15 "Sorry, Ms. McD, 9/8/10" notes
while they practiced the interconnected machine
with all its boops and whirls and ducking heads
while chickachickachick
arms went robotically overhead
feet bonked together systematically
One boy's arm cranked around
pulling another toward him
which in turn rotated a girl inward and outward
It really was a doozy

Imagine 15 kids, ages 10 to 17
(I teach 6th THROUGH 11th in these two wild classes)
working in obviously well-though-out, complex unison
to create serious magical nonsense
in a muti-body amalgam
while students switch classes
on some typical Tuesday

Definitely a hallway traffic stopper

Smiles busted some faces nearly off
as they came back inside
fresh off their first act of guerilla theatre
"What's that called again?" they asked
"We have to do that again," they insisted
An attention junkie myself, I totally understood the feeling.
"We should do one EVERY DAY ALL YEAR!!"
"Oh, no," I said, "You gotta keep your audience on their toes,
that's part of it. We'll discuss this tomorrow, get to class."

The next day, photo day,
I greeted my 2nd and 6th hour students
(the ones who would be photographed
by the advanced art kids)
at the door wearing a bright blue
explosion of feathers on my head
(one of those clownish wigs
you get in tourist shops in New Orleans)
I watched the low-level shock melt from their faces
as I reminded them of our assignment today
told them to get on some interesting get-up
and then line up to go outside

They quickly donned the boas,
simple masks, plastic roman helmets, cat ears,
tails of various kinds, rainbow hats,
berets, sparkling vests, and fairy wings I keep on hand
in a giant messy pile behind the "curtain"
backstage in my classroom.

I handed out silk dancing ribbons
to those who wanted one
Sean went straight for the big ole
djembe drum I keep in class
I brought the "little drum" --
a small doumbek who also lives at school

My students looked like old pros
They were brave and exploratory
They experimented (as directed) with both
natural and theatrical movement
One kid went from playing basketball
to posing like a wrestler with his eyes crossed
One had a conversation with a tree
Another stood in our school garden
swirling his ribbons around over and over
in different patterns

I walked around loudly approving
of the ones who were genuinely artistically engaged
and ignoring the ones who
treated this like whatever free time.

"Awesome, Bryan--
I can see a whole story in your movement
no wonder they are taking pictures of you."
"Ty--you are like art in motion--
a living moving sculpture--wow!"

It worked. They sure crave that praise.
Everyone got going.
The art students gravitated around
the most electric-energy spots,
something we later discussed.

I sat down and played drums with Sean.
Sang a little even.
I told him the truth: "What is surprising me is how
you really know how to listen while you play.
You create space for me to solo and you notice when
I am creating space for you.
That is so rare in a young drummer."
He's 13. He explained that both of his parents are musicians,
so he knows how you better listen when you play. Rad.
We talked about this later in class too:
I told the class about that conversation
and then asked who could connect that musical truth
to theatre/performance situations.

We'd only been out for about ten minutes when
Things started slowing down outside
creative juices going dry
I knew it was time for me to model
I stood up and announced to the art teacher
and anyone else who was in listening range
that I was "ready to make a spectacle of myself."
Ms. Adams knows and loves me and so she knew and loved
that this meant some serious action was about to go down.
So she announced it again loudly to all:
"OKAY, PHOTOGRAPHERS!
MS. MCD IS READY TO MAKE A SPECTACLE OF HERSELF!
TAKE SOME PICTURES!"

I got on top of a table with a silk ribbon in each hand
(in my sparkling feather wig, don't forget)
and pretended like I was a dragon posturing to all these humans
One of my legs was a tail, always up in the air behind me
I spun and shook my ribbon-wings and growled and pointed my toes
and whirled and writhed and devoured everyone with my eyes.
A student later said I looked like a ballerina-ninja.
Pretty fly.

Well this sure got my students going again.
I'd just raised the Madness Bar a hundred fold.
Slow motion fights with super-animated expressions
busted out everywhere.
Bird-humans started flying through the garden.
Sean hammed it up while he played.
I grabbed the shyest girl and got her up on the table
beribboned and echoing my motions from down below,
she began shaking with nervousness
and ended roaring with triumph.
The photographers started running around,
getting down on the ground,
snapping.

Oh, what would the principal say if he walked out here right now?

Back in the classroom, we through the costumes back into the pile
Wiped off our sweat on our shirts (YES!)
And debriefed

We got deep
One of those intensely wise and inspired
spiraling whole-class one-mind conversations
about how we begin to believe
we can't act certain ways around certain people
or in certain settings, how we tend to our inner selves
our realest thoughts our truest movements
thinking we're too weird or crazy or excitable
but when we go head and let it out
become a dragon or dance like a fairy or whatever
and we do it without self-consciousness
with pure joy
for the love of expression
in celebration of life and freedom
it comes off as the most natural thing in the world
true, some people can't handle it
even pretend not to see you
in all your strange glory
but that's not your problem
and if we let other people's judgements
about us and the world
run our lives
we give our lives to them

"Okay, beautiful people, it's time to go.
Keep it free, y'all," I said as they left.

Shy girl lingered.
Alone for a second before the next class came in
she looked me right in the eye
and said a "Thanks, Ms. McD"
that made me want to teach
ninja balletics
for the rest of my days.